A Blaze that Echoes

This story depicts violence and gore and touches on themes of grief.

Someone is shaking my shoulders. They are shouting something but the ringing in my ear keeps me from understanding them. When I finally open my eyes, I see a man desperately trying to wake me. I don’t recognize him or the chaotic, seemingly battlefield I appear to be on for a second. A spring of panic wells within me.

                 The man must see it because he pulls me close and says, “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” relief floods his voice, “but we’ve got to move. Can you get up?” he asks searching my eyes. I nod slowly as he wraps his arm around my middle to help hoist me up.

                 Together we move out of the clearing to where a few great pine trees can give us some cover. I sit against a trunk and begin to take deep breaths while the man looks me over. With each breath, it all starts coming back to me.

                 Inhale. This is Glazmae.

                 Exhale. I am a mage.

                 Inhale. We’re at war with Laderwarth.

                 Exhale. I am the mage general.

I set my eyes on the man I hadn’t recognized. Artemio Niscar. My king. My husband.

                 “I’m okay,” I say more to myself than him.

                 “The second the blast hit you,” he doesn’t let himself speak, like saying it would speak it into existence. I put a hand on his cheek and let the warmth of him seep into my cold fingers. I know the pain he would feel if I died, how gut-wrenching it would be to wake up in our bed alone, knowing his side would always be cold. I know the feeling so intimately; it’s like I’ve lived it before.

                 I let myself drink him in for a second longer before shifting gears to the battle at hand. Our initial plan of invading from the south was to give our mages gifted in water manipulation a chance to build an offense strong enough to overpower them.  This, of course, meant that we had to come from one of our neighboring kingdoms, Hovenia. When the war started, they had refused to offer aid, but according to our informants, they also refused to offer any aid to Laderwarth.

                 However, three months ago, one of Hovenia’s southernmost villages was caught in the collateral of a Laderwarth reconnaissance mission, leaving 50 Hovenians dead. We were able to convince Hovenia’s Queen, Aida Palafox, to stop playing Switzerland and let us use that very village, Galmouth, as a place to ambush them. Galmouth sits at the top of a small mountain that looks down into a wide valley. This valley is the border between the two nations. So, it is also the perfect place for an attack; not only is there a weakened defense due to the higher vantage point from the mountain, but it also is on the coast of one of the largest lakes on the continent giving our mages a chance for an aquatic attack.

                 All of this would’ve made for a perfect place to invade. However, the night before the attack when we were set up in the forest just outside of the village, a group of soldiers blindsided us.  They attacked with fire, targeting our water mages. I didn’t have the time to think about the fact that we had a traitor amongst our ranks; the only thing I could do was to try and lessen our casualties.

                 We set up a trench and were able to gather as quickly as possible, but we had already lost 20 soldiers, 20 men and women who believed they would be one of the heroes that led to the end of this godforsaken war.

                 In my hubris, I ran to the water mages trying to use my own magic to divert the attention of the attackers. Lilith, one of my captains, sent a wall of water around me to thwart the enemy soldiers, but the heat and flames were overwhelming, causing the water to fizzle out, its steam joining the smoke plumes all around. Through the steam, one of the fire fighters blasted me in the chest sending me backward.

                 I remember all this as Artemio waits for my order, for the plan that will save us all. I try to focus, but the sound of screams, the crackle of fire, and the smoke invading my lungs, make it impossible I go over the advantages we were supposed to have, but they no longer apply, and now all I can think about are our disadvantages. We are overwhelmed by some of Laderwarth’s greatest weapons. Our water mages aren’t used to this level of short-range combat, and we don’t have anyone other than the king and me, with any experience in this type of battle. Since we are in a foreign land, we don’t know this forest enough to elude the warriors, but my only thought is that we need to make it to the lake.

                 “If I can get their attention on me, can you get the rest of the water mages to the lake?” I ask hiding my fear as best as I can.

                 “I can’t let you do that,” he says already shaking his head.

                 “You must. I can’t think of any other way you make it out alive,” my voice becomes more stabilized the more I am sure this is the only way. I don’t have the time to think of another choice.

                 “I will not let my wife sacrifice herself. No, there must be another way, another option,” he huffs, “Let someone else do it, let someone else die, just not you,”

                 “Before I was your wife, I was your general,” I soften my voice and return my hand to his face.

                 “I am your king!” he shouts, but it sounds more like begging. “You will not,” his tone is firm and strong, the one he uses to command his people.

                 “and I am your Queen,” I spit back, “I will.”

                 We stay there staring at each other, studying each other as we realize this might be the last time we see each other. He kisses me, and with it I am flooded with memories. The night I met him I was merely a guard at a ball, but he saw me. He was only a prince then. He found me wherever I was stationed in the castle for weeks. Sometimes we would talk, but often he would just plop down on a chair that was nearby or even sometimes one he brought, and read or write, or sometimes sing. Soon after, I joined the official ranks, and he wrote me letters telling me to come back. I refused. So, he wrote me letters asking about my life, and I wrote back tales of my past and hopes for my future. Without knowing exactly how or when I realized I was in love with him. On my days off we would meet in secret, sometimes it was lazy days at the beach or picnics in secluded glens. He never expected to be king, so he didn’t think it wrong to ask me to marry him. His mother disapproved. Her attempts to tear us apart nearly worked, but when his brother abdicated his title, and his father died, Artemio told me and his mother he would only be king if I could be his queen. We ruled for only five years before the war.

                 “I love you,” I say in a near whisper.

                 “I love you,” he says through tears.

                 I get up and hug him. I worry I won’t be able to let go. He must know this because he pushes my arms down. Gripping me he forces my eyes to meet his and he says, “I will see you again,” his tone is once again that of a king.

                 I rush off toward where a group of soldiers are struggling with some of my water mages. I gather my power, as much of it as my body can handle, and let forth a storm of lightning precisely enough to avoid the water mages. Over half of the fire fighters drop instantly. My hands tingle with leftover sparks, and my legs are wobbly and feel useless, but it isn’t over yet.

                 The rest turn their focus on me. Using my sword as a conductor I slash through each soldier that comes. Their own power seems to be diminishing as they rely more on their swords and daggers. It’s a flurry of metal on metal as I try to dodge and attack at the same time.

                 For a moment, I can see a world where I win this, where I rush back to the lake in triumph. There are only four left. My sword glides through the upper body of a woman coming to my left. Three left. I twirl out of the way of another blade and use the hilt of my sword to hit them in the rib. As I turn, I stab him in the chest. Two Left.

                 My body burns with fatigue, and my chest stings from where I was hit, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel as I slash my blade through another torso.

                 One left.

                 I hear a scream, only to realize it’s my own. I look down and I see a bronze metal edge coated in my blood. I fall to the ground as my attacker pushes me off his blade. Everything goes black.

                 I wake up screaming and clutching my middle. I’m hyperventilating as I look around the room. It’s my room, my bedroom. I glance to my left at the empty bed, the sheets cool to the touch. I force myself to take deep breaths.

                 Inhale. This is Santa Barbara.

                 Exhale. I am a teacher.

                 Inhale. My husband is dead.

                 Exhale. This is real.

                 I fall back down on the bed. Despite my gruesome death, I prefer the dream. He survived in the dream. In the nightmare I live in now, he’s gone. He’s been gone for five years.

                 Every day I still have to remind myself. As I walk past pictures of him, as I celebrate our anniversary, as I do the laundry, as I eat at our wooden dining table, and as I fall asleep, I remind myself that I am here and that he is not.